


Whatever You Say

by jasmasson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-31
Updated: 2007-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:16:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/pseuds/jasmasson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It <i>blew up in your face</i>, Dean.  So, you know, maybe the spell might not have gone quite according to plan.”</p><p>“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Dean said, carelessly.  Sam’s brow cleared instantly.</p><p>“OK, Dean,” he said calmly, smiling placidly.</p><p>“Jesus,” Dean said.  That was some strong mojo if it could stop Sam obsessing about shit.  “OK, worry if you want to.  Just do it quietly.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever You Say

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** : Warnings for D/s-ish themes and possible coerced sex because it’s ‘magic made them do it’ clichéfic.  
>  **Beta** : Thanks to the wonderful and _speedy_ [](http://candygramme.livejournal.com/profile)[**candygramme**](http://candygramme.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Author’s notes** : This is for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/rounds_of_kink/profile)[**rounds_of_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/rounds_of_kink/) 30th July challenge for the prompt _D/s – Dean is dominant_. I should probably apologize to the prompter because while I stuck to the letter of your challenge, it probably isn’t quite what you had in mind. Sorry.  
> 

***************

The witch was one of those with less power than pretension, but she’d had enough tricks up her sleeve to enchant no less than three men into stealing money, jewellery, designer clothing and even her weekly groceries.

No real gift for it – she’d probably found a genuine magic book by utter chance at a garage sale, or in her Granny’s basement or something and ran with it all the way to Macy’s.

Materialistic witches they had to deal with now.

Dean was all for burning everything, including all her ill-gotten gains and pretty much everything else that was flammable in her apartment – but Sam called him a crazed pyromaniac and wouldn’t let him, restricting him to only the tools of her magical trade and, of course, the book. Sam never let him have any fun.

“For fuck’s sake, Sammy,” Dean groused as he separated out the magical contraband. “Can’t we just do what I say for a change?”

And the cauldron promptly blew up in his face.

***

“I’ve got fucking witch stink all over me. Next time we do it my way,” Dean bitched on the way back to the motel.

“Sure, Dean,” Sam said complacently. Dean fucking hated being patronized.

“Call first shower,” Dean said as they entered, already stripping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. “Go get us some food, would you?”

Sam was back out of the door and heading for the Impala before Dean got through the bathroom door.

Sam brought back two meatball sandwiches from the deli for Dean along with his own tuna on rye, a couple of sodas and some cherry pie.

“Oh god,” Dean moaned, practically orgasmic as Sam laid the food down next to him, where he sat on the bed with wet hair and fresh sweats and t-shirt. “That smells great.”

“Good,” Sam said, sitting down on his own bed.

“Dude,” Dean said, noticing Sam’s gaze and protectively shielding his pie. “If you wanted some you should have got some for yourself.”

Sam shrugged, “I got it for you. You like cherry pie.”

“I do love me some pie,” Dean agreed.

“I know,” Sam said.

Dean finished up and tossed the wrappers on the motel floor.

“You’re such a freaking pig,” Sam shook his head, going to pick them up.

“Shut up bitch,” Dean said. And then, surprised that Sam was picking up after him, “Nah, leave it for tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

Sam nodded and got straight into bed, not pausing to have a shower.

Dean shrugged; Sam must be exhausted.

***

When Dean woke up, Sam was already awake, watching him from his own bed.

Dean groaned and buried his head in the pillow.

“Go get me some coffee, bitch,” Dean said, burying his face in his pillow.

Sam got out of bed and headed towards the door. He made a _nghngh_ noise to attract Dean’s attention.

“What?” Dean’s voice was muffled by his pillow.

“ _NGHNGH_ ” Sam repeated with slightly more desperation as his hand landed on the door handle.

“Dude!” Dean said, finally lifting his head off the pillow, seeing a sleep-mussed Sam in boxers and barefoot apparently heading out the door. “What the hell are you doing?”

Sam’s teeth unlocked.

“Tell me to come back,” he said urgently, as he unlocked the door.

“Get back here!” Dean said, confused. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Sam stood directly in front of Dean and frowned.

“Tell me to sit down.”

“Sit down,” Dean said, starting to get it.

Sam immediately sat on the bed next to Dean, despite his apparently strenuous attempts to keep upright.

“Fuck.”

***

“So I didn’t really get it last night, because when you told me to shut up and go to bed, I was pretty tired and not exactly feeling chatty, but this morning I _really didn’t_ want to get up and get coffee, but I couldn’t help it.”

Dean stared at him, a small grin slowly expanding on his face.

“So you have to do what I say? Awesome.”

“Dean!” Sam did not seem particularly surprised by this reaction. “You’re going to have to watch what you say _really_ carefully.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waved him off, still grinning. And then after a moment. “Stand on one leg.”

“Dean!” Sam said, warningly, even as he stood up and got on one leg. “Quit fucking around.”

“Sorry Sammy,” Dean said, really anything but. “I’ll be careful.” And then, grinning impossibly wider. “Hop.”

“Dean!”

***

They decided they needed to check in controlled circumstances if it was just Dean Sam had to obey, or if it extended further.

And so they were in a diner after an excruciating trip where Dean had made Sam sing _Enter Sandman_ all the way, which, despite Dean’s constant sniggering, had been at least as painful for Dean as it was for Sam, because while Dean actually had a pretty good singing voice, Sam’s was notoriously awful. Dean thought it was worth it, though.

Dean made Sam order a plate of heart attack for breakfast, and to ask the waitress if he could have a glass of milk with that, because he was a ‘growing boy’. Sam kicked Dean hard under the table.

Dean went off to the bathroom and stopped by the waitress, asking her to tell Sam to go get Dean’s jacket from the car. When Dean returned Sam was still sitting at the table without the jacket.

“Only me, huh?”

“Seems like it,” Sam said, still looking pissed off.

“Smile,” Dean said. Sam’s automatic smile looked a lot more like a grimace.

***

The spell had worn off after a few days for each of the men, leaving them confused and disoriented. Two of them had been caught by the police, self interest non existent under the spell, and excellent pictures of them had been taken by the stores’ security systems and the third had handed himself in and made reparations for what he’d taken. The police hadn’t been able to track the witch because she’d had the guys meet her at hotels and, of course, they hadn’t believed them anyway.

Still, it did mean that it would wear off Sam in a few days, and until then Dean got to make Sam get him food, so. They’d had worse.

Sam didn’t share Dean’s cheery disposition on this issue though.

“It _blew up in your face_ , Dean. So, you know, maybe the spell might not have gone quite according to plan.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Dean said, carelessly. And then watched as Sam’s brow cleared instantly.

“OK, Dean,” he said calmly, smiling placidly.

“Jesus,” Dean said. That was some strong mojo if it could stop Sam obsessing about shit. “OK, worry if you want to. Just do it quietly.”

Dean figured they’d give it a couple of days before he started worrying, anyway. They didn’t have a job to rush off to, and, contrary to popular opinion, Dean could watch his mouth for a day or two.

Anyway, Dean lived to piss Sam off, and so enjoyed getting epic bitchfaces for his trouble when he made Sam do the laundry, get food, and – hell, he was only human after all – wash the Impala.

It got old surprisingly quickly, though, and Dean didn’t particularly want Sam to strangle him in his sleep when the spell broke, so he left Sam alone with his laptop while Dean cleaned the guns, which he preferred to do himself, anyway.

After a while, though, he sensed Sam getting restless. Had he accidentally told Sam to sit there, so he couldn’t move? Or to shut up so he couldn’t speak? Dean didn’t think so.

He glanced up and noticed Sam watching him.

“I can do that,” Sam said, nodding to the guns.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Nah, it’s OK, I got it.”

“OK,” Sam said, but he frowned slightly.

Dean went back to cleaning the guns.

“Do you want anything?” Sam asked, after a moment. “Some food? A drink?”

Dean looked up, expecting Sam to have his sarcastic face on, but he had the earnest puppyish, tell-me-your-life-story face-of-doom he used on spooked witnesses. Still, Sam could act.

“Ok, I won’t ask you to do anything else, alright?” Dean said.

Sam frowned, “But I want to.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I do. Dean, let me get you something to eat. Some pie? M&Ms?”

Dean frowned. Sam didn’t seem to be joking, not that Sam was a laugh riot at the best of times.

“Get me your knife?” Dean asked experimentally.

Sam was up instantly, a stupid blissed out expression on his face, and handed Dean his knife.

“Anything else?” Sam asked, eagerly.

“Ah. No,” Dean said, feeling a little weirded out. Sammy was probably fucking with him.

“Please?” Sam pouted. “Let me do something for you.”

“Uh, maybe a soda?”

“I’ll just be a minute,” Sam said, looking pleased again, and heading for the door to go to the vending machine.

Dean watched him go. Well, weird, but not that bad if Sam wanted to do things for Dean – just kind of less fun for Dean to make him. It’d only last a few days, max, anyway.

When Sam came back from the vending machine he gave Dean a can of coke, looking positively thrilled to do so.

“Thanks,” Dean said, and. Whoa. Noticed Sam had an erection. “Whoa! Sam!”

“What?” Sam came forward eagerly. “What do you want?”

“What the fuck is that?” Dean exclaimed, gesturing towards Sam’s _pretty noticeable_ erection.

Sam looked down. “What?”

“ _That_!” Christ Sam could hardly miss it! “You’re turned on!”

Sam shrugged, “It makes me happy to make you happy.”

“Christ,” Dean raked a hand over his head. He’d have to be sure to not tell Sam to do anything. “Sam…”

“And it hurts when you don’t tell me to do anything. When you don’t let me make you happy.” Sam looked at him with a mixture of adoration and desperation. “Tell me to do something, Dean.”

“Fuck. Get your coat and get in the car,” Dean said. “We’re going to see that witch bitch.”

Sam made a happy noise and his hips jerked forward as he came in his pants.

“Fuck.”

***

The witch had been just _thrilled_ at their predicament, and only too pleased to tell them what had happened. The more you asked someone under the spell to do something, the more they wanted to, until they just wanted to make you happy. They’d no longer really need just direct instructions but seek out ways of giving you what you wanted. _Ache_ to provide for your every need and _hurt_ if you didn’t let them.

“Fuck,” Dean threw down his jacket on the bed when they got back to the hotel room, and raked a hand through his hair. He’d been making it worse asking Sam to do those stupid little things. Fucking idiot.

At least it should be over soon. The witch had shrugged and said it should only last three days max and, no, she didn’t know what effect _destroying her property_ would have on it. Dean had phoned Bobby, though, giving minimal information, and he’d said that if a spell that went _well_ wasn’t permanent, it was likely that one that had gone wrong would last an even shorter length of time, which was something.

Sam was fussing with Dean’s jacket, picking it up and smoothing it down.

“Stop that,” he said irritably.

Sam made a noise and Dean could see his hips jerk forward.

“Fuck,” Dean said again. He’d have to go away until this was over, that was all. Tell Sam to stay in this room and come back and check on him tomorrow. He hated to leave Sam – it made his skin itch when Sam was out of sight for any period of time – but Sam wouldn’t be able to _go_ anywhere, wouldn’t be able to _leave_ if Dean told him to stay put. What if there was a fire?

“Sam…”

“Don’t,” Sam stopped him, quickly. “I know what you’re going to do. You think we should separate.”

“Just for a little while, Sammy, you…”

“No!” Sam moved quickly in front of Dean, puppy dog eyes cranked up to the max. “It’ll hurt me to be away from you, Dean. I need you.”

Dean swallowed, and looked away, sitting down on the bed.

“Sam…”

But Sam was much too smart to let Dean finish a sentence. Sam dropped down onto his knees in front of Dean, putting his hands on Dean’s legs.

“Dean, don’t send me away, don’t make me go,” Sam rubbed Dean’s legs gently. “I wouldn’t go far, anyway. I’d wait outside the door, waiting for you, wanting to be with you.”

“Sam,” Dean closed his eyes at the words – at the thought. Sam _needing_ him.

“Yes, you like that,” Sam’s voice had become sly, full of knowledge. “You like _that_. I’d wait outside for you. I’d rub up against the door, maybe, trying to get you to talk to me, to hear your voice.”

“Jesus, Sam.”

“Let me make you happy, Dean,” Sam’s voice was deep and dark. “Let me give you what you want. I know you want this, and I’d do anything.”

“Sam,” Dean tried to get back under control. “Don’t…”

But Sam moved quickly, diving up to push his lips against Dean’s, soft but demanding, muffling Dean’s protests.

Dean’s dick pressed hard against his jeans, and when Sam rubbed him through the thick fabric, Dean jerked up into Sam’s big, hot hand.

“Fuck Sammy,” he whispered as Sam pulled back.

“What do you want, Dean?” Sam asked. “I need to give you what you want.”

Sam pulled off his shirt and t-shirt over his head.

“Do you want to touch me, Dean?” Sam asked, trailing his hand over his own chest down to his flat, smooth stomach. “I’d let you do whatever you want.”

Dean was still torn. Wanting it so badly, wanting to relieve Sam’s pain. _Fucking hell!_ This was so fucking _wrong_ , but that didn’t have any effect at all on his hardening cock. In fact it seemed to be encouraging it.

“I want to do it, Dean,” Sam said, eyes dark and face hot. “I want to _service_ you.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Dean pressed down on his cock which seemed to be threatening to bust out of his jeans.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Dean,” Sam said, licking his lips. _Christ_ his mouth looked all pink and wet.

“Suck me,” Dean said hoarsely.

“Yesss,” Sam hissed, and Dean saw Sam’s hips jerking forward, his cock straining against his jeans, too.

Sam’s hands didn’t shake, and he didn’t fumble at all opening Dean’s jeans and pulling his cock out, like he’d _practiced_ at this; like this was normal.

“Tell me,” Sam said, pulling Dean’s jeans and boxers down his thighs, out from under Dean like he weighed nothing. “I need you to tell me what to do. Tell me how you like it. How to make it good.”

“Fuck,” Dean whispered as Sam’s lips closed around his hard cock.

Sam sucked and licked around the head, his hand gripping firmly what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Sam made noises, muffled by Dean’s cock, and that was almost enough to make Dean come.

“S’good, Sammy” Dean said hoarsely, and Sam moaned at the praise. “It’s real good.”

Sam’s other hand moved down to fondle Dean’s balls gently.

“Tell me,” Sam said, pulling off Dean’s dick just enough to vocalize. “ _Make_ me.”

“Fuck, Sam, just suck me. Take it Sammy, just take it.”

Sam’s moan was the fucking sweetest thing Dean had ever heard, and he took more of Dean into his mouth, probably more than he really should be able to, but he could, because Dean was _making_ him.

“Fuck Sammy,” Dean breathed. “So fucking good.”

He was gonna come. He was gonna come in Sam’s mouth, maybe make Sam swallow it, maybe make him _thank_ him for it…

But if he only had one chance, only one…

“Stop,” he said, pushing Sam away.

“What?” Sam looked so fucking desperate, so needy, his face flushed and his lips red, wet and swollen. “Please, Dean, let me. Let me, I can do it better. I can. Let me be good for you.”

“No, I wanna…” Dean made an indistinguishable hand gesture, but Sam had always been a smart boy.

“You want to fuck me, Dean?” he asked. “I’ll let you. I’ll let you do anything, Dean. You can do anything you want to me and make me like it.”

Dean gripped his cock to keep from coming, although part of him wanted to come all over Sam’s gorgeous face; his wicked smirk. He closed his eyes against the temptation.

“Anything,” Sam vowed, softly kissing the inside of Dean’s thigh. “You can fuck me, make me beg. Hurt me if you want to.”

“No,” Dean said, eyes snapping open. “Sam, I’d never…”

“I know,” Sam was smiling, and there was a lot of _Sam_ in that smile, and it was clear that Sam _did_ know. Probably more than Dean wanted him to. Probably more than _Dean_. “You don’t want to hurt me, but you can make me feel so good, you want to do that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You will,” Sam continued. “Anything you do will feel so good, better than anything ever has. You could make me come harder than I ever have in my life just by telling me to.”

“But not yet,” Dean said, more to himself than to Sam, to prevent himself from giving into the temptation of seeing Sam come right there in his jeans, untouched on his knees in front of Dean. “Later.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Sam said, pressing one more kiss to Dean’s thigh. “I just want to make you come.”

“Get up,” Dean said, and Sam shuddered as he stood up, getting his hit from obedience. “Take off your clothes.”

Sam had already removed his top and now just pulled off his jeans and boots. His boxers were damp, and his cock peeked out of them, hard and red. Sam pulled them off and stood naked in front of him, arms slightly to the side, letting Dean look his fill, enjoying giving this to Dean.

Dean shucked off his clothes thoughtlessly, eyes still on Sam.

“Get on the bed.”

Sam’s cock jerked at the instruction, and he went to lie down on the bed, on his belly, spreading his legs.

Dean appreciated the view, but…

“On your back.”

He rifled through his bag and found lube and a condom. He tossed the lube to Sam, who caught it one-handed, because he knew Sam wanted to be told.

“Get yourself ready for me,” he said gruffly, leaning back against the table to watch. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

“Ah, fuck,” Sam said and came all over himself.

“Damn,” Dean said, disappointed.

“It’s alright,” Sam’s smile was so fucking dirty. “I can get hard again, just on your say so.”

Sam pushed slicked up fingers inside himself and groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head roll back. Dean watched avidly as he fucked himself open.

“Spread your legs wider,” he said, and Sam did so, his spent cock shifting gamely again towards hardness. “Show me; let me see your hole. Let me see everything.”

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam panted, thighs splayed wide, fingers working hard and fast; cock hard again.

Dean couldn’t wait any longer and slipped between Sam’s legs.

“Gonna fuck you, Sammy,” he said, grabbing the condom and lube up from the bed. “Get me ready.”

Sam obeyed instantly, of course, grabbing the condom and ripping it open, sliding it with huge, slick, hot hands over Dean’s cock. Dean closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to last long, which would be hideously embarrassing.

Sam added more lube to Dean’s cock and whispered. “You feel so good, Dean. You’re going to feel so good inside me. I’m going to make you feel so good. I know you want this. I know you’ve always wanted this. Me underneath you, wanting you, desperate for you.”

“Fuck,” Dean slapped Sam’s hand away or all this preparation wasn’t going to be necessary.

“Lie back and spread ‘em Sammy,” he said. “Pull your legs up so I can see.”

Fuck he looked amazing; hard and panting, legs spread wide, wet and stretched where he’d been fucking himself open _for Dean_.

“Tell me you want this,” Dean said hoarsely as he slid inside. _Fuck_ but Sammy was tight and so fucking hot and sweet.

“I want it, Dean. I want you to fuck me, I want you to _have_ me.”

“Fuck,” Dean closed his eyes. “Tell me…” He didn’t know what to ask for, so many things trapping his tongue.

“I want you Dean. I want to do whatever you want.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” Sam felt so good, hot and tight under him, smooth flesh pressing against him, straining up for him.

“Yours, Dean, I’m yours.”

“Fuck yes,” Dean gasped, hips stuttering.

“Tell me. Tell me you’ll never leave,” Dean groaned.

“I’ll never leave, Dean. I’ll never leave you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he was coming, coming so hard, seeing stars. He panted against Sam’s neck, not quite able to ask, but Sam was smart and attuned to giving Dean what he wanted.

“I love you, Dean.”

Sam kissed his neck, waiting for him.

Dean pulled back, not quite able to meet Sam’s eyes, and reached for Sam’s hard dick.

“You don’t have to,” Sam said, voice a low purr. “It’s all for you. You could leave me like this, if you wanted. Lying here hard and aching, _aching for you_ all night.”

“Christ,” Dean closed his eyes. “Come, Sammy,” he said. “Come for me.” And he felt Sam hot and wet over his hand.

Dean pulled off the condom and threw it in the wastebasket. He reached for his t-shirt to clean Sam off, cleaning up his cock, but when he moved further back to clean up Sam’s hole, Sam stopped him.

“Leave it, Dean, please,” Sam said. “I want to stay like this, slick and loose all night. I’m going to sleep on my belly with my legs spread, so when you wake up I’ll still be all wet and stretched and ready for you, so you can just roll over and fuck me, before I’m even awake.”

“Christ, Sammy,” Dean’s cock made a game attempt at getting hard again. He breathed in deep. “Just go to sleep, OK?”

“Yes Dean.”

Sam was as good as his word, lying down on his belly and spreading his thighs so Dean could see where his hole was red, swollen and messy where Dean had fucked him.

Dean should get up and go and sleep on the other bed, but he didn’t. Instead he ran his fingers down Sam’s smooth back and listened to Sam sleep.

***

Of course, it didn’t quite go like that in the morning. When Dean woke Sam was already awake, watching him. There was none of the heat in his eyes, or the avid adoration Dean had seen before.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to find something to say, but Sam beat him to it.

“I wanted it, Dean. I made you do it.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean said, feeling nauseous, how had he been so _stupid_? “You forced _me_.”

“In a way,” Sam said, looking much calmer than someone who’d just been fucked by his brother had any right to.

“I fucked _you_ , Sam.”

“You can’t have been expected to resist that, Dean,” Sam said, looking sympathetic. Sympathetic. Sam really was empathy boy.

“Yeah, because you’re so irresistible,” Dean sneered. Which, yeah, way to go on the apologizing, Dean.

“I am to you,” Sam said, matter-of-factly, and Dean flushed.

“Whatever, Sam. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then can you just punch me? Because, please God, let’s not talk about it.”

Sam shook his head, and, groaning, Dean made to get out of the bed, “C’mon Sammy, let’s just…”

But Sam had a strong grip of his ankle and pulled him back in. He rolled Dean onto his back and grinned down.

“I think we can do better than talk,” and Sam kissed him, hot and wet, and _Jesus_ , so good.

Sam pulled away, and his grin had an extra glint.

“Maybe I can tell _you_ what to do this time.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are lovely, and if you’d like to comment please feel free to do so here or on [this fic at livejournal where it was originally posted ](http://community.livejournal.com/rounds_of_kink/27315.html?style=mine) as you prefer.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Whatever You Say (The Vehicular Displacement Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/185300) by [keerawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa)




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